(thoughts on the power of music and strangers)


You didn’t send a picture

Or tell me your last name.

You didn’t shoot the shit

Or (really) play the dating game.

You sent me a piano riff

A bridge, that you had written

Just the keys, moving up and down

And man, it got me smitten.

The arpeggios were moving

The tension drew suspense

The amount of heart and pain and love

Was huge and dark and dense.

I don’t want to know your surname

Or the reasons your heart once broke.

I want to find a heart like yours

And make it sing the way yours spoke.